


Come to Daddy

by ribcage



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Jim and Molly in love, POV Jim Moriarty, POV Male Character, Reflection, Romance, Smutty, molliarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribcage/pseuds/ribcage
Summary: Jim failed to see how Molly’s physicality could ever not be arousing. The size of her lips did nothing to detract from how amazing she was at sucking cock. The size of her breasts made it no less fun for Jim to cup them in his hands, tease her nipples into hard peaks, suck on them until she squirmed and made those delightful little sounds.





	Come to Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> SO, this was just supposed to be a short little look into Jim's mind re: Sherlock finding Molly unattractive, but then (shockingly) I expanded upon it and it broke 1k. Hope you enjoy, and if you do, bookmarks, comments, and/or kudos are very much appreciated!

Sherlock Holmes was so very stupid.

Jim had been wrong. When he first came across Sherlock’s website way back when, he really thought he’d met his match. He thought he’d finally found his intellectual equal in the world.

Clearly, that was not the case.

It wasn’t just that Jim had outsmarted the man countless times. It wasn’t just that Jim and Molly had been dating for nearly a year now with the consulting detective none the wiser.

It was that Sherlock seemed to have two types—John Watson and whores—and was thus incapable of appreciating true beauty.

The good doctor, while evidently a touchingly loyal pet, did nothing for Jim, and hookers… Jim had never seen the appeal of hookers. What was the point in going to bed with a woman who didn’t even really want you? Where was the intimacy in that? No no no. Jim much preferred his prospects to be willing participants in the sexual encounter, to enjoy it just as much as he did. That was so much sexier—watching a woman genuinely tap into that animal instinct of raw want and need and give as well as she got.

Molly Hooper took it to a whole other level, though. Jim was fully aware this was because of the emotional connection he shared with the woman. Sex as fire as theirs didn’t result from mere physical attraction. It just didn’t. As great as the physical aspect was, Jim knew a large part of what made their sex so hot—and their sex was _extremely_ hot—was the way they aroused each other’s minds. Molly was the first sexual partner Jim had actually cared about, and Jim made Molly happier than she’d ever been. He would’ve picked up on that even if she hadn’t told him, but she had one night while they were on a date at one of Jim’s favorite high-end restaurants. It had caused a strange reaction in him, this little tug at his heart, because he wasn’t exactly someone who made others happy. Moriarty made his clients happy, of course, with his assistance in whatever crimes they wanted committed, but Moriarty also frightened everyone. He was held at arm’s length as much as he held everyone else at arm’s length. No one ever got to him.

And Jim—well. No one knew Jim.

No one until Molly.

That was how Jim knew his and his Mollikins’ amazing sex stemmed largely from their (this was a new feeling to him, but what else could he possibly call it) love for one another.

Jim could’ve laughed deliriously as he thought of that fateful Christmas. While he was off making empty plans with Little Holmes, Molly was having her image torn apart by The Virgin, of all people. Like he was qualified to judge a woman’s body.

_Compensating for the size of her lips and breasts._

First of all, Molly and Irene Adler had almost the exact same measurements, so Jim got the impression either a) Sherlock only enjoyed females when they presented themselves as unabashed whores, or b) he failed to grasp how skilled Molly was at hiding her curves under baggy jumpers and lab coats. Given he’d made his scathing remarks while she was all dolled up in a beautiful dress, however, Jim was going to go with the former.

Second, Jim failed to see how Molly’s physicality could ever not be arousing. The size of her lips did nothing to detract from how amazing she was at sucking cock. The size of her breasts made it no less fun for Jim to cup them in his hands, tease her nipples into hard peaks, suck on them until she squirmed and made those _delightful_ little sounds.

Jim had learned from Sebastian that the cutest lingerie was tailored to women with a slighter build, which was why the sniper never had an issue purchasing exactly what Molly (or Jim) sent him out to buy. (He did, however, have an issue with the bustier female customers complaining to him about this as he flitted through Victoria’s Secret as quickly as humanly possible.)

Jim could honestly say he had never seen a woman look sexier in lingerie than his little Molly. She became so confident, so in control when she wore her blood red corsets or soft pink babydoll dresses. And while the couple struck a natural balance of who was in control and for how long in the bedroom, the consulting criminal found he particularly enjoyed when the pathologist pushed him back on the bed (or sofa, or chair, or backseat, or…) and took charge.

If not for this new feeling of jealousy he experienced when it came to his girlfriend, he’d have sent Sherlock a video of her showcasing her significant skills by now, thanking him for his stupidity. His writing off Molly Hooper had led to the best sex of Jim’s life—and that was coming from Mr. Sex himself.

All of that went through Jim’s head in five seconds flat the moment Molly stepped into their bedroom. (Well, his bedroom in his London hideout, but it was theirs for all intents and purposes. As often as he could, Jim persuaded Molly to spend the night there rather than go home to her flat, although he was known to spend the occasional overnight there, as well.)

“Sebby picked this up for me today.” Molly struck a pose that made Jim want to eat her alive. Or just eat her. He did so enjoy licking things. She was wearing a black lace thong and nothing else. The intricate patterns swirled around her delicate hip bones and dipped tantalizingly low in the front. “You like?”

Jim’s eyes grew even darker than usual. “ _Very_ much so.” He sat up on the bed and licked his lips, needing them to be hers instead—and not the ones turned up in a proud, beaming smile. “Come to Daddy.”

Molly’s eyes mirrored his and darkened with desire. She moaned a little and made haste of crossing the room and climbing into his lap. Her arms wound around his neck easily. She then positioned herself so that her knees were straddling his hips and her groin was pressing against his.

Jim gripped her pert ass and pulled her body flush against his, causing their hips to grind together in the most delicious way. They both groaned at the contact, at the sexually-wrought friction. The consulting criminal dug his fingers into her skin and closed his eyes, trying to reign in his control. They never rushed things unless it was her lunch break. Fucking his Molly at work was a treat. Seeing how quickly he could bring her to orgasm before she went to the cafeteria with her colleagues was a game. But tonight they were in their bedroom with all the time in the world; Jim refused to allow his painful erection to get the best of him. It would be some time before he was buried deep inside his woman, but that was fine. Great, even. That meant he had plenty of time to tease her, touch her, see how many times he could make her come before she threatened to kill him if he didn’t _fuck her right now, dammit!_

Waiting would be worth it. It always was with Molly.

Restraint intact once more, Jim wiggled his left hand in between their bodies and rubbed two fingers against her sex through the knickers. She made a needy little sound; Jim hummed his approval and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her flushed throat. “It’s a shame your cute little outfit will be soiled in a few hours.” He slipped a finger beneath the fabric and groaned at how damp the underside was already. “Or less. Naughty one.”

Molly closed her eyes and whimpered. She leaned her forehead against his and rocked her hips on his finger, trapping it inside her knickers. “S’okay.” Jim slid the digit inside her and she keened. “T-Told Sebby to buy ten.”

 _So very stupid_ , was the last thought Jim wasted on Sherlock Holmes for the evening. Well, second to last. The very last one came the first time Molly did, head thrown back, perfect lips parted in an O, gorgeous breasts thrust forward. _He doesn’t deserve to know how wrong he was._

**Author's Note:**

> BurningLostStars made an AMAZINGLY ACCURATE graphic to go along with this fic: http://whyimmathere.tumblr.com/post/169626381357/come-to-daddy-by-midnightmoriartea-jim-failed-to


End file.
